Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(8)
“I am prepared to do princess duties. I am even willing to allow you to take a mistress if you wish. But what I won’t agree to is a divorce.”
I feel my jaw tighten. I knew it wouldn’t be this easy. Any girl would unlikely give up the privilege of a princess, no matter how many duties there are.
“Name your sum,” I say. “Trust me, you would be much happier with an allowance and freedom.”
She glances up at me, desperation in her eyes. “Please, Edward. Take pity on me; I cannot leave as a divorced woman. Even if she comes back, I will not relinquish this position.”
5
Kat
“Honey, are you sure you want to find this Professor Bartlett?”
I look up from the suitcase I’m packing for the trip. “I looked him up online. That college in Wales has his profile, and the message comes from the same email he has listed on his profile page. Besides, what can he gain from me? I’m a nobody, just an ordinary twenty-something girl from America.”
“He knows Athelia, Mom,” Paige adds. “He recognized the pattern of Kat’s gown. It’s too much of a coincidence.”
Mom sighs and crosses her arms. “Very well, darling. But there is only one condition that you can go. I will accompany you.”
“Mom! Seriously, you don’t have to do this.”
“You disappeared on us eight months ago. I am not letting you out of my sight—not until you stop moping about that husband you left. You’ve never traveled abroad, darling. You only got this passport because you needed one for Canada.”
“True.” Paige says with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m not going to waste my passport either, so I’m coming along too.”
I sense there’s no talking out of it, so I stop protesting. Mom had quit her job to take care of me, Paige doesn’t budge from her decision to defer, and besides, I am a little nervous about traveling to the UK, even though there’s no language barrier.
Paige says I went through a transformation since I received that email. Before, I was like a worm, limp and lifeless, but now I am like a chipmunk, jittery and unable to stay still for a second. At first I dashed off a super long essay-length reply, but I was worried that so many questions would put him off, so after some consideration, I decided to simply write and tell him that yes, I have been to Athelia, and if I could meet him directly in Wales.
His reply was prompt. “I imagine this is an experience that very few in this world could share. I would be honoured and pleased to meet you.”
It is a long journey, but I barely register any of it. When the plane lands in Heathrow airport, we take the Heathrow express to Paddington, then board a train to Cardiff. Another coach would take us to the university town where Professor Bartlett resides. Luckily, the locals are pretty friendly and though it’s a bit tough getting used to the Welsh accent, we have no trouble getting to the coach terminal, and hailing a taxi to take us to Professor Bartlett’s house.
He lives in a small cottage with a large rose garden surrounding it. When we arrive, the door opens before we knock. An old man looks out, his hand stretched to us. He has wrinkles all over his face and tufts of white hair peaking from his ears.
“Welcome,” he says, and his voice sounds younger than he looks. “Who of you is Miss Katherine Wilson? Ah, so it’s you, and those two are your mother and sister. It is a pleasure to have you come visit me.”
A large shepherd dog wags her tail and ambles over to us. “Patty, sit down, there’s a good girl.” Professor Bartlett walks slowly to the kitchen. “Do you take tea? Or coffee?”
Both Paige and us debate whether to help him, since he looks well over sixty, but he moves with relative ease. So we sit down on the sofa in the living room, and thank him. “Tea would be lovely,” I say. “After all, Britain is famous for its tea.”
He smiles, showing two golden teeth. “Nice to have someone who appreciates good tea.”
I think of how Edward converted me into a tea drinker, and the anguish creeps up again. I bite my lip and wonder how to initiate this conversation about Athelia.
Professor Bartlett brings us the tea on a tray, then settles into a comfortable rocking chair.
“It’s a lovely house you have,” Mom says. “The furniture is so quaint. It’s like living in a fairy tale.”
“It’s all Maggie’s doings,” the professor says. “She passed away a few years ago. Cancer, that devilish thing. So now it’s just me and my dog.”
I notice the photos displayed on the drawing room table. One shows him with an elderly lady who must be his wife, while another portrays a younger person—a young man who shares his straw hair and blue eyes. “Is that your son?”
“Dale has moved to London since he graduated from college,” he says affably. “He used to come up to see me once in a while, but since he got married and had a child, he doesn’t come around as much. So I have to amuse myself in the gardens and with my books.” He takes a sip of tea. “Seeing your picture in the news is the most excitement I’ve had in decades.”
“How did you know about Athelia?” I say, unable to contain my curiosity.
He goes over to a bookshelf, and takes out a worn book. The title reads The Unlikely Queen.